What Becomes Us
by Anom
Summary: Losing to Kashue sent Ashram into disgrace, this story is a few days after that duel. A short fic with Ashram angst and featuring, of course, a bit of AshramPirotess.


"What Becomes Us"  
  
Losing to Kashue sent Ashram into disgrace, this story is a few days after that duel. A short fic with Ashram angst and featuring, of course, a bit of Ashram/Pirotess.  
  
***  
  
How?  
  
How had he lost?  
  
Grunting, Ashram swung Soul Crusher in the empty room. The practice routines he had been going through for the past hours had been burned into his memory long ago, but another memory had more recently infected him, a scene that refused to give him peace.  
  
He would never forget that second he thought he had achieved victory over Kashue, only to realize he was the one with a sword in his gut. Frustration renewed, he put more effort into the already forceful swings and slashes, ignoring the fiery pain in his barely healed stomach.  
  
The rulers of Marmo had not been sympathetic when he had returned, far from it. The Black Knight could still see them, still hear their voices as they leered at him.  
  
i"You left so confident, and this is how you return to us?"  
  
"Marmo doesn't need men who can't even win a duel."i  
  
Cowards, every one of them. Sweat stung Ashram's eyes, and he ignored it as well. He had felt almost naked at that meeting, bereft of his grand armor. It had been taken to be repaired, leaving Ashram in the quilted jerkin and simple brown clothes that he was still wearing.  
  
He remembered Wagnard the most. Wagnard, the very thought of him put a bad taste in Ashram's mouth.  
  
i"You failed to secure the Scepter of Domination, and you managed to lose the Soul Crystal Ball as well, Ashram."  
  
"It was Groder's duty to bring you the Soul Crystal Ball."  
  
"He has been dealt with already; now we are judging you."i  
  
The council, as they were called now, the remaining high ranking officers that had taken control after Beld's death, had eagerly seized this opportunity to be rid of him. Ashram, who had so obviously been Beld's favored servant, who was without a doubt the one who would come out on top of the vicious power struggle that had been raging for the years after the War of Heroes.  
  
No more.  
  
No longer a threat to those sniveling men who dared think they could lead Marmo.   
  
Now he was as good as dead. Dishonored, thrown aside to make way for the ambitions of others. A yell of rage cut through the silence in time with the sword that cut through the air in a shimmering arch. The yell ended in a hiss of breath as Ashram felt the tender flesh around his stomach twist and protest.  
  
The dishonor wasn't the worst thing, though. No, the worst part was the confusion that was clouding all other thoughts within him. How had he lost? And to Kashue, the very man who had murdered his mentor! That simple failure had done far more damage then the actual wound could ever do the proud knight.  
  
Panting hoarsely, Ashram leaned on Soul Crusher, wiping at his face with a gloved hand. He heard the footsteps behind him, and the steps were light enough, and the timing of the visit predictable enough that he knew who it was even before the sultry voice began speaking,  
  
"It's good to see you're feeling better, My Lord."  
  
Ashram didn't reply as he instead walked to the benches on the sides of the room, all the while wondering if he had heard a hint of sarcasm in Pirotess' voice. She was perceptive enough to know that he wasn't feeling any better, if anything he was feeling much, much worse then he ever had in his life.  
  
Pirotess silently glided behind him as Ashram leaned Soul Crusher against the wall and sat, surprising himself with how exhausted he felt the instant the stress was off his limbs. He let out an unconscious sigh of relief in which could be heard some of the agony he was in. Pirotess shifted her weight to one foot, thoughtfully leaning her face on her hand. She looked Ashram over,  
  
"Your wound has reopened, My Lord, perhaps you shouldn't stress yourself quite yet."  
  
Ashram half opened his eyes and put a hand on his stomach, glancing down. Yes, there was a dark stain oozing slowly outward, and it hurt now that he noticed it. With a dismissive grunt, he leaned his head back, not particularly worried about a little blood.  
  
The Dark Elf watched silently, as if still awaiting his commands. The act invoked a twinge of irritation in the Black Knight, and when he spoke it was a sharp order that betrayed yet again just how unsettled he was.  
  
"Leave me, Pirotess."  
  
Not moving her feet, Pirotess cocked her head curiously, faintly amused if nothing else. With obviously not intention of leaving, she asked,  
  
"Why?"  
  
Ashram leaned forward, supporting his head with his hands as he contemplated the floor like it could tell him the answers he sought. Still Pirotess stayed. To Ashram, who knew well enough the ideals and morals of Marmo and their allies leaders, her presence was confusing if not suspicious - she would gain nothing in terms of respect or power by being associated with him now.  
  
So why did she stay?   
  
"I'm dead, I don't have the authority to lead any more."  
  
Pirotess looked him over, surprised at how easily he seemed to be giving up. She made a brief sound of resigned concern before sitting next to him, careful to leave some space between them. Pirotess intertwined her fingers, preferring to look at her hands rather than at Ashram, his defeated, sullen silence almost frightening her.  
  
"Neither do I, Luzeb decided I am unworthy of leading our people any longer."  
  
He looked up upon hearing that, not understanding exactly, and the fact that he was interested gave Pirotess a little hope that he would recover. Arching one slim eyebrow, Ashram stated,  
  
"You weren't part of my group."  
  
Pirotess looked over toward him, shrugging as she explained plainly,  
  
"No, I wasn't. But I proclaimed my loyalty to you openly, even after all of this. Those men that claim to be Marmo's leaders are not worthy of my service."  
  
Thoroughly surprised by the loyalty, Ashram realized he shouldn't have been, Pirotess had proven before that she was one of the most trustworthy allies he had known. Those feelings set aside, this little scandal would just encourage the rumors he'd been hearing lately concerning him and her. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.  
  
He was sure, however, that her actions could just as well be from pity or in pursuit of personal gain, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with either, he was just too tired of all of it. Bluntly, almost cruelly, he told her,  
  
"Sympathy does not become you, Pirotess."  
  
Pirotess stood lithely, pushing her hair behind her elegant ears. A mask of calm indifference, well practiced over her long lifespan, concealed anything his harsher words had stirred up She leaned over so she was almost level with Ashram, and whispered,  
  
"Funny, sulking doesn't become you, My Lord."  
  
With a small, odd smile, she turned and left without saying another word, leaving Ashram in silence.  
  
***  
  
I just wanted to write something else about Ashram and Pirotess, and I'd recently watched the episodes of CotHK where Ashram lost that duel and the one where he showed up again but was all `herofied' or whatever. Then I thought up that last few lines and I figured it would be fun to write up to that.  
  
Note: If you haven't read the manga(which I very recently acquired) Luzeb is one of the four council members of Marmo's government after Beld fell. The council consists of Wagnard, Ashram, Luzeb(Dark Elf leader), and Shordel(Archbishop of Darkness)  
  
Ashram was being a suspicious bastard near the end there, or was that just me? Oh well, you figure a guy who's used to the Marmon power struggles would be wary of others, and he is kind of at the end of his rope right about then too.  
  
We all know he loves her, so it's all right. 


End file.
